Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?
by Trinn
Summary: Discover the language of Gibberish, evil pink teddy bears, and killer Chipmunks with laser eyes! Yes, this does have something to do with Phone Booth, but you'll have to read it to find out!
1. The Simple Joys Like Torture

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 1: The Simple Joys... Like Torture**

"Hello Stu."

"What? How'd you know my na-- I mean, who's Stu?"

The caller on the end of the phone sighed. "I'm not that dumb, Stuart."

"So who are you?"

"That's not what I'm most interested in. What I'd like to know is your hair care secrets." The caller laughed maliciously.

"Well that's just too bad, pal, 'cause I'll never give away my hair care secrets!"

"Ahah! So you admit to having hair care secrets!"

"Uh... no, I mean, what hair care secrets?"

"I don't have any hair care secrets! I didn't even know I had hair! Oh look, whaddya know, I've got hair!" Stu laughed nervously. "I swear, I've never seen this hair befo--"

"Okay Stu. That's enough. You see that woman outside?"

Stu could see a middle-aged woman standing less than a foot from the back of the booth and staring in at him fascinatedly, and he jumped. "Yes..."

"Do you see what she is wearing on her stylish prune-colored hat?"

"You mean the "Hitler for President" pin?"

"No, no Stu, the other pin."

"...The little pink teddy bear?"

"Yes. Do you see it?"

"Duh. What about it?"

"That little pink teddy bear will self-destruct in five seconds if you don't tell me what conditioner you use."

"But! But!" Stu panicked. "Can't we start with something smaller? Like shampoo?"

"No, Stuart. Don't push me."

Stu could see the little pink teddy bear on the woman's hat lift one arm and make a threatening gesture with one of its fuzzy little bear fingers and he shivered. "Why me? Why not some other guy with nice hair?"

"BeCAUSE, Stu, I like your hair best. Now, your conditioner!"

The teddy's yellow eyebrows slanted inwards, giving its beady eyes an evil gleam.

"Okay! Okay! I'll tell you! It's... it's..."

"Come on now Stuart..."

The teddy frowned and crossed its pudgy arms across its chest.

"Pantene!" Stu sobbed. "I use Pantene ProV conditioner. Now call off your demented pink minion!"

The teddy bear on the woman's had suddenly burst into flame. Like a birthday candle. It melted down to nothing, frowning disapprovingly at Stu through the whole process.

"Scary, huh Stu? You see the people panicking? You see the crazy woman screaming because her hat has caught fire? No! She doesn't care. That probably was her least favorite hat anyway."

The woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her head was on fire, but it must have looked uncomfortable to someone passing by because the observer whipped out her little cell phone and dialed 911, giving her fingers severe cramps from pushing the little buttons and then having to do it over because she accidentally dialed 9121 when her finger slipped. Cop cars were there within minutes.

"Captain Guy! Captain Guy!" One of the anonymous members of the crowd caught the attention of the man in charge. "The man with stylish hair in that booth over there -- he's got a flamethrower! He set that woman's head on fire!"

The rest of the random people passing by gasped loudly and suddenly noticed the flaming mad-woman. One of the cops sprayed her with his mini-fire extinguisher. She seemed fine, and started walking away slowly from the phone booth. She seemed to be muttering to herself. "What's that you're saying, Smoky?" asked the fire-extinguisher cop.

'Smoky' said a bit louder, "The Recruit....Minority Report....Veronica Guerin...."

"Gibberish," the fire-extinguisher cop explained to Captain Guy. "I'm quite fluent in it. She says that guy has a flamethrower." He pointed to Stu and turned back to Smoky. "Uh, SWAT....Tigerland...."

The woman, Smoky, nodded vigorously. "Alexander!"

The fire-extinguisher cop took Smoky off to the side, murmuring, "Hart's War?"

Captain Guy stared at them, then shrugged and turned back to face Stu's phone booth. He grabbed a megaphone and brought it up to his mouth. "Attention! Yes, you, man with the nice hair in the phone booth! We know you have a flamethrower, and if you make any threatening moves to kill us all with it, we will put you on our angry-face list!" He held up a piece of paper with a mad-looking smiley face at the top.

"But I don't have a flamethrower!" Stu called back, still holding the phone in one hand.

Captain Guy smiled and shook his head. "Ah, the ignorant criminals these days," he said. He spoke into the megaphone again: "Well, you OBVIOUSLY have a flamethrower or that woman's head wouldn't have burst into flame!" He explained this to Stu very clearly as he would have a small child, or a lamp post.

"It wasn't me! It was the teddy bear! THE TEDDY BEAR!" Stu cried.

The caller on the end of the line, who had been laughing quite loudly, said in suddenly somber tones: "Don't tell him about the teddy bear, Stu."

"Heh heh! Did I say teddy bear? I don't know why I said that! That's crazy!" Stu yelled at the Captain, who lifted the megaphone to his lips, frowned confusedly, and lowered it again. Stu could see him lean over to his coworkers and mutter something he couldn't hear, and point at the tall buildings.

"This man is obviously insane. Now, I want YOU to go there," Captain Guy spoke quietly and pointed at a nearby building, "and buy me a bean burrito."

Inside the phone booth, Stu decided to give the caller the silent treatment. Unfortunately the man didn't notice since Stu hadn't said a whole lot anyway.

After a little while in which everyone stared uncomfortably at everyone else and the Captain ate his bean burrito, the caller spoke up again.

"Alright Stuart, I think I've got enough information about your hair." Stu sighed with relief. "Now I want to know... wherever did you buy those stylish shoes?"


	2. BLEEPIN BEEEEEP BLEEP HONK

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target? **- Trinn  
**Chapter 2: BLEEPIN BEEEEEP BLEEP HONK**

After several minutes of what the caller liked to call "persuasive language," Stu finally broke down and told the man what he wanted to know.

"Aah... those would be French manufactured?"

What followed next involved a tiny pair of scissors, Captain Guy's bean burrito, and Stu Shephard's stylish left shoe. This is how it happened:

Captain Guy finally finished his bean burrito. He picked up his megaphone again and walked toward the phone booth a few steps. Speaking to Stu through the megaphone, he shouted, "My marriage ended badly!"

Stu stared for a few minutes, then called back, "And why would I want to know that?"

"I don't know! I just thought it would make you feel better!"

"Better than what?"

"Better than I did after my wife ditched me! Here, let me go into detail..." Captain Guy began to explain about his marriage but Stu was quicker. Faster than anyone could see, Stu knelt down on the floor of the phone booth, untied and removed his left shoe, and through it as hard as he could in Captain Guy's direction.

"Don't get any closer!" Stu shouted. Throughout all this the caller had been suspiciously silent, but soon he spoke again.

"Sorry Stuart, I had to grab a bite to eat. That bean burrito just looked so good. But I'm back now!"

Stu spoke into the phone. "Remind me again why I'm talking to you?"

"Because you enjoy the sound of my voice so much. And because I have a rifle, which I forgot to mention before."

"... oh."

The caller laughed. "Yes, Stu! A rifle! Bwahah!" He sobered a bit. "Now I want you to do something for me. I know all I could possibly know about your outfit so... let's mess with your social life!"

"Aw man, not my social life!"

"Yes Stu! I think I'll begin by calling your wife and telling her that you've found someone else... me, in fact. Wouldn't that be a nice twist." The obviously masculine voice sounded quite amused.

"No! Don't call Kelly!"

"Ah, so you DO have a wife!"

"Wait a mi-- hey!" Stu was furious with himself. But he was more angry at the caller.

"That's right Stu, I tricked you again. Don't you love that feeling?"

At these words something in Stu's memory jogged. He said suspiciously, "Are you that guy I sold those "Guaranteed Win" lottery tickets to?"

"No Stuart, that was my cousin. Phil's never been one of the bright ones... and that's not why I'm tormenting you, Stu, so don't get your hopes up."

"Then why ARE you tormenting me?"

"Because I liked your hair. I thought that was clear."

"Anyway, Kelly time!"

"No!" But Stu could already hear another phone ringing. On the other end was Kelly's voice.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Kelly, I'm calling about your husband, Stu..."

Stu yelled into the phone, "Kelly! Don't listen! He's a liar, Kelly!"

"Stu?"

"Yes. In fact, he's listening to what we're saying now but you can't hear him."

Kelly's voice sounded confused. "But, I thought I just did hear him!"

The caller was silent for a moment. "Sorry about that, forgot to push..." There was a beeping sound. "There."

Stu yelled again, but this time Kelly really couldn't hear him.

The caller went on. "Anywho Kelly, this Stuart Shephard you're married to, he's been avaiding his taxes lately..."

Stu sighed with relief. Kelly did the taxes.

"...and he's just been arrested on charges of murder."

Kelly sounded shocked. "What?"

Stu said the same thing, only louder and followed by several persuasive phrases.

"Yes Mrs. Shephard, I'm sorry to say your husband is a baby-killer."

"No! Stu doesn't kill babies! A frog once, but that was an accident..."

"I'm sorry, but it's true." The caller didn't sound THAT sorry. "And before killing the baby, do you know what he did? He stole its candy! Right from its mouth!"

After ten more minutes of telling Kelly about the various crimes he hadn't done, the caller hung up and turned back to Stu. "So Stu, how does it feel to be a baby killer?"

Stu, who was feeling distinctly grumpy by this time, replied in a string of threats and cuss words that didn't end until the caller cocked his rifle audibly. Stu's tirade ended with, "And THEN I'll... eep!"


	3. 555 HaHaHa

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 3: 555-HaHaHa**

Stu looked around, panicked.

The caller's voice came, as calm as ever, from the black germ-encrusted telephone. "Scary, isn't it. I love that noise." He cocked the gun again and Stu flinched. The caller, seeing this, laughed heartily and went into hysterics.

Stu knew that, preoccupied with the violent hiccups and the increasing lack of airflow to the brain, he could probably whip out his cell phone and call someone without the caller noticing. Slowly he reached into his back pocket...

It wasn't there! Stu felt his other pockets, appearing to dance to the onlookers outside the booth. People pointed at the funny man with the flamethrower and the nice hair and laughed.

Stu eventually found his cell phone on the floor of the phone booth. This was an interesting development, because Stu had lost his phone on the Subway last week and it was beginning to come back to him when he saw it on the ground. Stu wondered how the heck it had gotten there, and he reached down to retrieve it. A bullet whizzed past his arm, grazing it and making a bloody streak on Stu's nice white long-sleeve shirt.

He gasped and, grabbing the phone, straightened. The black phone booth phone was still in his hand, and Stu tentatively raised it to his ear to listen. On the other end of the line was still the hysterical laughter. Apparently the caller had accidentally fired without meaning to in his mirth.

Cautiously Stu dialed Kelly's number. She didn't pick up, but her answering machine did. Stu left her a whispered message:

"Kelly! This is Stu! I didn't actually do those horrible things that guy said I did! .... I think his hiccups are getting better, I have to go, but you have to call the cops and tell them that I don't have a flamethrower or I'm toast! The phone number of the police captain is 555-3993, I want you to call him specifically! Quick!"

"I heard that Stu." The caller was back to normal, and he sounded serious. "But you know what? If she dials 555-3993 it will never work. Those are the sort of numbers they use in movies. They're not real!" And there he went again with the hysterics and the hiccuping. Stu rolled his eyes and waited for it to be over.


	4. The Chipmunk with the Laser Eyes

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 4: The Chipmunk with the Laser Eyes**

The crowd had thickened considerably from the beginning of the whole "You have nice hair so I'm going to torture you incessantly" fiasco. In fact, there were so many people gathered to see the flamethrower man that some of the small business owners began to set up shop right there in the street.

"Special today only! Flamethrower Man discount on all toy robots!" One man had a bunch of little blue toy robots that walked and spun around whenever someone said "Sticky Wicket."

"Come git yer illegal alcohol and cheap little plastic dealies here! Guaranteed made by all-illegal immigrants!" (The owner of this small business kept getting weird looks from the police, especially Captain Guy.)

"Freaky chipmunks with lasers for eyes! Fresh out of the labs of the craziest scientists' basements! Cheap today in honor of that guy over there!" Some silence followed this pitch as everyone stared at the little cages and their contents: tiny balls of fuzz that would occasionally blink and someone nearby would catch fire or lose a leg. But soon other merchants began haggling with various members of the crowd and the street became a marketplace centered around a guy in a phone booth who was believed to have a flamethrower.

"Well Stu, this is certainly an interesting development." Stu had almost forgotten about the caller. "And you know what?"

"What?" Stu asked warily.

"I think those laser chipmunks are kinda cute..."

Stu groaned; he knew what was coming next.

"And I want you to get me one!"

"For here or to go?" Stu replied sarcastically.

The caller laughed. "Just get me the chipmunk."

Stu sighed heavily and ran his hand through his lovely hair. "Get a laser-eyed super-chipmunk for a crazy with a rifle... sounds simple enough..." he muttered.

"Oh, and Stu, don't let go of the phone. If you did I would shoot you."

"Well that certainly complicates things." The caller laughed.

Stu stuck his head out of the phone booth. As he was deciding what to say, one of the cops noticed and alerted Captain Guy, who was buying some illegal alcohol from one of the vendors. The captain looked up quickly and jogged over to where he could see Stu's head better.

"Hey you!" Captain Guy mouthed, me? "Yes, you with the illegal alcohol problem! Get me one of those chipmunks or I'll kill everyone with my flamethrower!"

Captain Guy considered Stu for a moment and nodded. He went over to the chipmunk vendor and appeared to buy a chipmunk from the man. The chipmunk-seller handed the captain one of the small cages, along with a large white textbook. The man waved cheerfully in a "Thank you, come again!" way and Captain Guy started to walk slowly towards Stu's booth.

"I've got your chipmunk right here," called Captain Guy. "Why don't you come out and talk about it?"

Stu looked confused. "Talk about the laser chipmunk?"

Captain Guy looked at him. "If you want to..."

"I don't really want to talk to anyone right now, I'm having kind of a bad day. Can you just bring me the stupid rodent?"

The caller spoke up. "Don't let him get any closer."

"Stop!" Stu yelled at the captain, who froze midstride. He spoke into the phone: "Why not? How's he supposed to bring me your little monster-rodent if he can't come up to the booth?!"

"Were you ever in Odyssey of the Mind as a child?"

"...no..."

"Obviously. Odyssey of the Mind teaches you creative problem solving skills."

"So you're saying--"

"Figure it out."

Stu thought for a moment, then stuck his head back out of the booth and yelled at Captain Guy (who was teetering precariously on one leg in the same position as he had been before), "Toss it!"

"What?"

"Toss me the chipmunk!"

"Are you mad? It'll kill us all!"

"Either it or my flamethrower," Stu shrugged.

Captain Guy looked doubtful, but he raised his arm to throw the chipmunk's cage. As he judged the distance of the phone booth, the chipmunk vendor noticed what he was doing and appeared suddenly by the captain's side.

"What are you doing?!"

"I am tossing this chipmunk" he pointed to the cage, "to that man over there," he pointed to Stu, who waved.

"But the chipmunk will undoubtedly laserize the entire--" but Captain Guy had already thrown it.

As the chipmunk and its cage flew through the air, small red laser beams shot out from the little object and cut smoking holes in everything from shoe stores to the asphalt of the road to the crowd of people. When the lasers turned in Stu's direction he ducked, which was a good thing for him because the top of the phone booth suddenly separated itself from the bottom where he was crouching.

At last Stu caught the mad little animal and held it carefully with its eyes pointed away from him. It seemed to be vibrating. Cupping the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he could hear the caller laughing delightedly. "Okay," he said, "I have your mad chipmunk, now what do I do with it??"

"Hold it up where I can see it better... yes, that's good... Oh! It's so cuuute! Isn't it just precious, Stu? ... Stu? Say my chipmunk is precious."

Stu rolled his eyes. "Your chipmunk is very precious," he said in a flat voice.

"Now squeal like a girl," said the caller.

"What?"

"You know... heeheehee!" The caller giggled in a high pitched voice. "Like that!"

"Eheeheh..."

The caller sighed. "Good enough, I guess."

There was silence for a moment, and Stu's arms started to get tired from holding the chipmunk up. At last he said, "...so, what do we do now?"

The caller paused. "I suppose I could make you enact scenes from 'Gone with the Wind'..."


	5. Party Games

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 5: Party Games**

The rest of the day wore on as the caller made Stu stand in the street and sing songs from "The Little Mermaid," "Mulan," and "Cinderella." He appeared to have a passion for the Disney flicks.

Pretty much everyone had deserted Stu and left him to his fate after the chipmunk-tossing incident (the laser-eyed creature was now curled into a ball in its cage, nestled in the smoking remains of the phone booth), but Captain Guy still sat in his car and diligently watched everything that happened behind his dark sunglasses. The sunglasses in question were, in fact, so dark that no one could tell that Captain Guy was actually asleep.

The sun went down and Stu began yawning. "Hey, how much longer do I got to entertain you, guy?" his New York accent finally coming through.

On the other end of the line, the caller sounded like he was constipated, but he was really just trying to get the lid off a Gherkin jar. "Rrrrng, just a second -- grrrrrr, nnnng!" Then, finally, "GAH! Hah! I got it!"

Stu didn't think he wanted to know what the caller had been doing.

"Now what was that you said?" So Stu asked him again, slower this time in case the caller had suffered any brain damage while grunting like an elephant in labor. Then, "I guess that depends on you, Shephard."

"Meaning...?"

"I can make you do whatever I want for as long as I want and I plan to have a little fun with this."

Stu lost it and started screaming hoarsely into the reciever. "A LITTLE FUN?? Is this what you call A LITTLE FUN??!!?" He went on to repeat some of the inappropriate words he had said earlier, only in a slightly different order and with a LOT more of the F word.

"Whoa there Stu!" The caller on the other end seemed delighted at this reaction. "Remember, rifle!" Stu heard fumbling and then a loud clunking noise, followed by several scrapes, a quiet curse, an exhasperated sigh, and then finally, "Well I can't get it all propped up again so I can't make the scary noise. I know, I'll improvise!" The caller made a sound that was almost sorta like a cocking rifle. "Now THAT was horror movie material! What did you think, Stu? Think I should remake 'The Ring,' only with more loud noises and an even more confusing story line? I think so."

Stu was still out of breath from yelling, so he couldn't tell the caller what a stupid idea he thought that was. The caller didn't seem to mind this, as he babbled on and on about all the famous celebrities he had almost met, including Arnold Schwarzeneggar's estranged girlfriend's distant cousin's sister-in-law's former roommate. After an hour of this, Stu was almost snoring as he sat on the floor of the phone booth surrounded by broken glass. The sky was now jet black, but the streets were almost brighter now than they had been during the day because of all the neon lights. One lit sign said "PHONE BOOTH INSURANCE," and it kept flashing on and off. Stu wished sleepily that HE had some phone booth insurance.

When the caller became too hoarse to talk anymore, he ordered Stu to tell him a story. "A nice story, with a romance in it."

Stu's story was about a dragon who fell in love with an orange peel. They couldn't be together because all the other orange peels hated the dragons, and the dragons hated the orange peels. When the story was finished, ending happily with the dragon eating the orange peel so they could always be together (or at least, until the dragon's next bowel movement), Stu wondered if he could get it published.

The caller's mind had obviously been drifting through Stu's heartrending tale of romance, because the first thing he said was, "Truth or dare?" His voice seemed a lot higher than it was before.

"Wait, what now?"

"Let's play truth or dare! You go first. Truth... or dare?"

Stu had heard of this game. It was something his fifth grade girlfriend had kept trying to get him to play. He had always been more interested in the spin the bottle game. But he decided to play with this caller, since if he didn't he would probably get shot. "Uh, truth, I guess."

The caller giggled girlishly. "Oooh, let me think... okay, which famous celebrity would you most want to go out with: Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, or Keanu Reeves?"

"... Do I really have to choose?"

"I know, it's hard, isn't it?"

"That's not quite what I meant..."

"Well choose then!" The caller seemed a tad impatient.

"Erm... Tom Cruise?"

"EWWW!" The caller shrieked happily. "But you're a GUY!!!"

Stu, having already known this, was not surprised. He rolled his eyes and decided to play along with this maniac. "Your turn now! If you were on a desert island, which of these would you most want to take with you if you could have an unlimited supply of that and nothing else?" He didn't know it, but Stu was a born natural at Truth or Dare. "Chocolate, pizza, or popcorn?"

"Chocolate! For sure! But I can't have anything else?"

"No, only chocolate."

"I want to have something else!" The gun made a clunky noise in the background.

"Okay, okay, you can have one other thing."

"Three other things!"

"Alright! Three other things!"

The caller seemed happy enough with this. "Hmm, well then, I'd want --" Suddenly the caller's high pitched voice broke off as if the phone had been snatched away. The caller reappeared two seconds later in his normal voice.

"Sorry about that Stu, I had to go to the bathroom and I'm babysitting my niece here."

"Ohhhh!" That would make sense...

"Don't tell me you thought that was ME the whole time?" The caller sounded highly amused. In the background Stu could hear the little girl whining.

"Of course not! I just... Of course not!" Stu laughed loudly and fakely. "Heh... heh..." He coughed faintly.

"Uh-huh..." The caller didn't sound very convinced. "But moving on, Stu, don't you know all those famous celebrities you're always talking to on this phone out here?"

Stu started to sweat slightly. "Oh, yes... those... famous celebrities..."

"I want you to introduce me to the one called 'Pam.'"

"But she's really a hote-- I mean, she's quite busy this time of night."

"Oh, but you always have the most interesting conversations with Pam that I conveniently happen to listen in to..." The caller's amusement had a hard edge now.

"Yes, er..."

"It usually goes something like this:

Allnite Hotels! How can I help you?

'Hey Pam, it's Stu! You'll never guess who I met today -- Michael Jackson!'

Hello? Would you like to make a reservation?

'Oh, I completely agree. That Michael! Such a tease.'

Sir, do you need assistance? If you don't have business with Allnite Hotels then I'm going to have to hang--

'Pam! I'm so shocked! You can't say things like that OUT LOUD!'

Sorry, this isn't Pam, I think you have a wrong--

'But Pam, I'm MARRIED! We can't do a thing like that!'

... click bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..." The caller laughed softly.

Stu's face was redder than the neon lights blinking chaotically into the empty street. "You could hear... the other line?"

"Oh yes, Stu. Have you told your wife you're pretending to cheat on her... with a hotel chain?"

"Er, well technically I wasn't cheating--"

"A HOTEL CHAIN, Stuart? And this Michael Jackson... what is he, a fish market?"

"Hey, I have connections..." Stu the PR guy sank down in the bottom of the booth and pulled his stylish coat up over his head, apparently afraid that the laser-eyed chipmunk, his only audience aside from the caller, would learn his most embarrassing secrets.

"Very impressive, Stu! You can't even connect your computer to the internet! Yes, impressive indeed!"

"Well that's not my fault... the instructions didn't make any sense! They may as well have been in another language! It's all the fault of those idiot instruction-booklet makers..."

"Stu, you were reading it upside down. And... you WERE reading the French section."

For about ten minutes all Stu could do was cry. "You're right, I'm worthless!"

"Now now, I never said you were worthless. After all, you kept my niece entertained for three minutes. That's worth something."


	6. L337 5KILLZ

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 6: L337 5KILLZ**

The night hours ticked by slowly. When at last the sun began to rise, Captain Guy woke himself up from his comfortable doze, yawned loudly, and stretched his arms. One of his hands reached out the window and Captain Guy shivered when he felt the cold morning wind on his skin. He blinked blearily, remembering the previous day's happenings as he looked around at the empty street and the tired looking man stuffed into the bottom of a phone booth. He looked at the rising sun and wondered how long he'd been asleep.

The coffee in the cup perched precariously on the dashboard of his car was cold, as Captain Guy discovered when he moved his leg and it spilled all over his pants and shirt. "Piddlesticks," he swore, mispronouncing the common phrase, as he tended to do when flustered.

He opened the door of his police car and jumped out, trying to wring coffee out of his clothes. Suddenly a bullet whizzed past his ear.

"Bammit!"

Stu blinked out of his tired daze at the sound of muffled screaming. He looked over and saw Captain Guy huddling in his squad car, mumbling something like "Buck spit." There was a jagged bullet hole in the windshield. Stu was alarmed, to say the least. Had the caller finally given up his long charade and started to shoot at things in an angry rage?

"What are you doing?" Stu shouted into the phone. "So now we're shooting people??"

"Hm? Oh. No. I was aiming for the air balloon, actually."

Air balloon? Stu thought. Then he saw floating in the sky high above him and several miles away by its diminished size, a brightly-colored air balloon. "That air balloon's no where NEAR that car," Stu said suspiciously.

"Well I WAS trying to do it blindfolded while in a handstand. I pull the trigger with my toes, you see." When Stu was silent for a while, the caller added, "It's an acquired talent."

Stu squashed himself a little more into the corner of the phone booth.

On the ground beside him, the chipmunk's cage began to rattle. The chipmunk itself was emitting a high-pitched squealing and rocking back and forth on its hind legs.

"What's it doing?" Stu asked nervously.

"You're asking me?" the caller replied. "It's probably hungry. You should feed it."

"...I don't have any chipmunk food."

"I can't help you there. You should have bought some off that nice scientist when you had the chance."

"Hey, he's your squirrel! YOU should feed him!"

"Sorry Stu. I'm busy."

"What? You--" Stu sighed, rubbed his hand across his eyes, and peered closely into the chipmunk's cage. It didn't look so much hungry as murderous. Its eyes were glowing red, but they weren't shooting lasers all over the place yet. It was growling faintly now as well as screaming like a teapot.

"You hungry, little fella?" Stu asked hesitantly. He dug around in his pockets but came up with nothing except his car keys, wallet, cell phone, and a coupon for something called "BeefStake." Experimentally, he held out the coupon. With the tips of his fingers gripping the thin paper, he stretched his arm as far as it would go. He didn't want to get any more of him than could be avoided near the cage that was now glowing faintly blue.

When the chipmunk saw the coupon stretched out to it, it stopped shaking immediately and its beady eyes stared as the coupon got closer and closer. By the time Stu realized what it was really looking at, it was too late.

The cage's blue glow suddenly got brighter and seemed to become fairly solid. Hundreds of tiny tendrils shot from the gathered light and gripped Stu's hand, which dropped the coupon as it was dragged, struggling, closer to the chipmunk.

"What?! What's it doing-- OWW!" Stu yelled in pain as the chipmunk, arms outstretched to receive its meal, bit into his fingertip with a squelch.

"Very good Stuart!" The caller was laughing heartily. "You've found what it likes to eat!"

Stu was trying to pull his arm out of the mad vampire-squirrel's grip but not succeeding. The cage now seemed rooted to the ground and the blue glow was wrapped handcuff-fashion around his wrist. The chipmunk's eyes were closed in pleasure as it sucked all the blood it could hold from Stu's finger, which seemed to be much more blood than was possible for such a little creature.

Finally it was done and Stu was released. He fell against the back of the phone booth, cradling his hand. "Oww!" He glared at the chipmunk, which was now lying on its back and wiggling its legs contentedly.

"Aw," said the caller from oh-so-far away in safety. "I think it likes you!"


	7. Lucky You

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 7: Lucky You**

It would usually be at this chapter in the story where the author would either be kind to poor Stuart Shephard and release him from the confines of his phone booth, chipmunkless, with all of his appendages in-tact for the most part, and send him home to have cookies or some other pleasant food with his loving wife; or, the author could kill Stuart and leave his body in a dumpster for the waste management to find in the morning. However, this will not be one of those usual stories. Instead, we're now going to have even more fun with Stuart as we explore the evil world of Reality Television.

How it happened:

Stuart's unique predicament was obviously causing a stir in the TV world, showing up on the news every day and causing people to bet on when he would die. And, since Stuart Shephard closely resembled Colin Farrell, the ladies in the audience began to form their own leagues of Stu-Lovers (much to the displeasure of their husbands, who were busy debating who would win between Stu Shephard and Spiderman).

One of these Stu-Loving Leagues just happened to be a daytime TV station run entirely by lonely, single women. One of these Stu-Lovers came up with the brilliant idea to do a "reality" television show, in which real, live people compete for some fabulous prize on TV! (She was later informed this had already been done, but not before everyone congratulated her sarcastically for her brilliance.)

But who should be on this show? The answer was clear! Who would make the audiences watch the very most? ... Of course it was Arnold Schwarzeneggar, but he refused, so they had to settle for Stu Shephard (who was originally their second choice). And he didn't really have a say, as he was currently trapped in a phone booth against his will by a psycho with a sniper rifle, so Stu it was.

The television station managed to somehow (and by somehow I mean, "involving a huge wad of cash") convince the caller to let Stu off with only a warning and a year-long television contract to their station, and the caller did so willingly and happily, stopping by only to pick up his blood-sucking chipmunk and to give Stu a pat on the back for being "Just so darn cute."

Stu Shephard himself was having mixed feelings about the whole thing. On the one hand, he could have been stuck in that phone booth for who knew how long with a chipmunk sucking the blood out of his finger; on the other hand, which had no fang marks and was hurting considerably less, Stu was free of the phone booth with few noticeable wounds but was now under contract to do a reality television show for over a year. He couldn't decide which was worse. But when he saw the TV crew start piling out of their truck like clowns out of a VolksWagon Beetle, he decided it was probably the latter.


	8. Star Treatment

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 8: Star Treatment**

The personal trailer that had been given to Stu as a gift from StuTV (someone had decided it would be a good idea, for whatever reason, to change the name of their television channel to reflect their newest attraction) was quite a bit smaller than he had expected a star trailer to be. And quite a bit less furnished. It didn't take him long to realize that it was actually a horse trailer, but by then he was being shoved inside by the brutish camera man and the metal door was being padlocked behind him.

Stu pounded on the side for a while in a vain attempt to knock a hole through the unforgiving surface, but then the trailer (which had been hooked up to the back of the TV van) began to move and he fell backwards against the unpadded downhill wall with a thump. He briefly tried to gasp in the air that had been forced out of him as he slid down to sit on the thankfully-sanitary floor, feeling almost worse than he had in the phone booth. At least this horse trailer was BIGGER than the phone booth, and if it didn't smell quite as nice, at least no one was threatening to shoot him. At the moment.

The van pulled into the station parking lot about a half an hour later, and in the search for a parking space big enough for both the trailer and van Stu was knocked around dizzily until he could no longer tell you for certain how many fingers HE had, let alone how many fingers YOU were holding up. Later he suspected the van had circled around so many times on purpose, perhaps to confuse him as to the secret location of the TV station's parking lot, for when they did finally park Stu could see out the holes in the top of his trailer how empty every other parking space was, which was extremely.

The TV crew slapped high-fives for no particular reason as they all piled out of the van, then scuttled inside their station building before they burned in the sunlight as Stu, who had been left behind in his trailer, suddenly felt certain they would.

After waiting for some time for the crew to come back, Stu decided he might be out here for some time and would survey his surroundings to see if anything at all could be used to his advantage.

Empty parking lot. No help there. Across the street he could see a tall wire fence surrounding a dreary prison-like building and masses of muddy grass, as well as some metallic structures that Stu couldn't quite recognize. Some of them looked rather nasty and forbidding.

It wasn't until around noon the next day when Stu discovered the true identity of the building across the street. He had slept badly that night in his freezing horse trailer, as, apparently, no one had thought to come get him, and he had finally really fallen asleep in the early morning when it started to warm up a little. He was awoken at 12:15 by three small, yet undeniably trollish, creatures who were brandishing knobbly sticks and red Twizzlers. They wore what looked like either prison garb or school uniforms, and were proved to be the latter when Stu saw the small badges on the left of each of their jackets reading "Saint Fiacre's School for Trollish Boys."

"Hey horsie!" called the tallest troll of the group, banging the side of Stu's trailer with his stick. Stu, who had only shown his eyes and the top of his head when he looked outside for whatever had woken him, sunk down farther until he couldn't see anything of them, but also couldn't be seen himself. Ignore them and they'll leave, became his hopeful mantra as the three boys circled the trailer and all began beating on it at once, yelling "Horsie! Horsie! Horsie!" as if performing a sacrificial ritual.

This went on for quite some time, to the point where Stu's hair was even more ruffled-looking than before and he was wondering incredulously how much longer the little buggers could possibly go on beating his cage. It turned out that the only reason they DID stop was that they were interrupted by a StuTV executive out on a well-timed smoking break.

"Hey kids! Get away from there!" The executive jogged slowly across the parking lot toward them, stopping halfway across the small asphalt expanse to catch his breath and then limping wheezily the rest of the way. "Leave... horsie... alone..." he gasped, hallucinating slightly from the tiring workout. The executive then had to sit down, cough a few times, and eventually pass out in exhaustion.

Stu tentatively peeked through one of the holes near the top of the trailer, and saw with relief that the trolls were now becoming too preoccupied with the StuTV executive to remember the horsie. They hauled the executive up and carried him over their heads, chanting an ominous phrase that Stu thought must have been in another language as they scuttled back towards Saint Fiacre's across the street.

Stu sank back down to the floor in relief, letting out a deep breath. His relief didn't last too long, however, as he was interrupted again five minutes later by a swarm of more television executives from StuTV. One of them opened the back of the trailer and Stu was yanked outside into the squint-inducing sunlight.

"C'mon Stu-- it's time for your first television spot!" called one optimistic voice as bewildered Stu was pulled into the StuTV building by both arms. Once inside, he was whisked away to a small, brightly-lit room that was apparently used for slathering actors with various creams to make their skin look normal under the greenish studio lighting. Stu was slathered, then his hair was ruffled a bit more than was necessary ("because the female audience likes that look"), and finally he was led out into the studio itself.

"Oh... my," Stu said worriedly, recognizing the set before him as well as the three people seated behind a table draped with a blue sheet.

"Hello Stu," said Paula Abdul, smiling warmly at him.

"'Sup, dawg?" said Randy Jackson.

And Simon Cowell sighed boredly.


	9. By Popular Demand

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 9: By Popular Demand**

Once a week for about a month, Stu was sold off to the highest bidding reality TV show. He was becoming a sensation among people of all genders and age groups, eventually even internationally. But along with StuTV, another cleverly named television station was rapidly gaining popularity: SniperTV, which had dedicated itself to finding and celebritizing Stu's former captor.

This task was harder than it sounded, as SniperTV innovator Karrigan Michaels soon discovered when she realized how much she and her coworkers at the station actually knew about the caller: one, that he apparently had a phone, or had access to a phone somewhere; and two, he possibly had some sort of mind control powers over chipmunks.

This led to several very action-packed live shows that were sadly devoid of any useful content.

Karrigan grew so desperate to find the phone booth sniper that she began advertising in the Personals section of the newspaper:

"SWF, seeking man with a tendency to shoot people in phone booths, preferably the man who was responsible for Stuart Shepard's brief stay in the phone booth with the chipmunks. If you are this man, or know anyone like him, call K. Michaels at..."

So now she was sitting in her executive office, tapping a pen annoyingly on an open copy of the newspaper and trying to think of a way she could BS her way through another hour of prime time TV without actually having a main character or any way to locate him.

She sighed dramatically and pulled at her hair, possibly in hopes that her brain would be invigorated by the sharp, tugging pain and come up with a brilliant idea. The only thing it did was make her whimper as she blinked away sudden tears.

Then Karrigan thought of the motto inscribed over the television building's front doors in Latin: "Ut vos es defessus, taedium, ieiunium, tristis, vel gauisus... vigilo TV." ("When you're tired, bored, hungry, sad, happy, itchy, or uninspired... watch TV." Or something like that.) So she switched on the television screen that took up a majority of the back wall.

It was Stu Shepard. Gasp.

He was sitting at the end of a very long table that was otherwise filled with an array of women, all of whom were laughing and giggling together and completely ignoring Stu. He appeared to be in a stupor. (It was how he often looked these days. Being an unwilling television contestant will do that to a person.)

The narrator was a sarcastic guy with a slightly whiny voice. "...but he will only pick ONE of these women to be his wife in the end. Who will it be? Will it be Marsha?...Will it be Franca?...Will it be Wilma?...Will it be..."

Karrigan smashed the POWER button in disgust. What was this, "Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?" How lame was that? She grabbed her hair in preparation to start pulling it out again, but was stopped when her telephone rang.

Surprised, Karrigan stared at the phone until it had rung twice more, then picked it up.

"This is Karrigan Michaels," she said automatically.

"Hello Karrigan," said the sniper.

"Oh... my... GOD!" Karrigan yelped. "It's you! It's you, isn't it! Stu SAID you sounded like Kiefer Sutherland on TV that one time." She paused. "... You aren't Kiefer Sutherland, are you?" She sounded worried.

He laughed softly. "No," he said.

Karrigan breathed a sign of relief and continued screeching excitedly into the receiver. "Oh my god! Ohmigod ohmigod OH MY GOD! So where are you? You have to come down to the studio! No, wait, we'll come to you! Oh, I'm SO happy you called!"

He snorted. "It's what I do."

"Oh. Yes, of course. So where are you?"

Karrigan heard a knock on her office door. "Not NOW!" she yelled.

"Open the door, Karrigan."

"Oh..." She got up, still holding the phone to her ear as if afraid to break the connection, and opened the door slowly. And there...

Was Kiefer Sutherland. Holding a cell phone to his ear.

"Hey! You said you WEREN'T Kiefer Sutherland!"

"I'm not." Kiefer Sutherland hadn't said a word. But she heard his voice on the phone.

"Wait," she said, confused. She stared at Kiefer Sutherland, who stared back vacantly and shrugged. He dropped his cell phone on the floor and watched it intently.

The sniper laughed again. "That's not Kiefer Sutherland either. He's too busy doing that show '39' or whatever it is now. I had to use a look-alike."

"But... why?"

"There's a note for you. In his left pocket."

Karrigan reached out hesitantly, but Fake Kiefer did nothing but stare at his phone like he expected it to grow legs and walk away, so she slipped her hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"A crane! How pretty!" Karrigan closed the door on Fake Kiefer and sat back down at her desk.

"I took an origami class," said the sniper proudly. "Unfold it."

Inside was an address. "Where's this?"

"It's where you're going to meet me. Tomorrow... at one o'clock sharp. Don't be late, I have to pick up my niece afterwards."

"I won't! I promise! I—" But the sniper had hung up.

Karrigan slumped in her chair, holding the crumpled paper to her heart. She was saved.


	10. Meeting the Caller

**Who Wants to Marry a Sniper Target?** - Trinn  
**Chapter 10: Meeting the Caller**

It was one o'clock. Karrigan Michaels was standing on a street corner, confused. She looked down at the crumpled directions, then up at the numbers on the businesses on either side of her. The address didn't match either of them! But why...

At first she thought the ringing was a hallucination created by her frazzled brain. Then she realized it was coming from the phone booth behind her.

Of course! She dashed into it and picked up the phone, slamming the door closed behind her.

"Hello!" she said.

"Hallo, ees thees the Tie-lont Kefay? I woot lahk to ordehr ay leetle beeskit for me wahf, won of zem huhnie-flahvurred wons, plees."

Karrigan slammed the phone down in frustration. "Gah!" Then she screamed and spun around as something bashed hard into the glass wall behind her.

"Tie-lont Kefay! TIE-LONT KEFAY! HUNIE BEESKIT! ME WAHF!" A short man with bright green hair was throwing himself against the side of the phone booth, which rocked slightly backward each time. Karrigan cowered against the opposite side, jumping each time the man hit the glass. She slowly reached for the phone and dialed 911.

"911? I'm stuck in a phone booth and this guy is—What? No, this isn't a prank call! I'm seriously trapped in a phone booth—Don't you hang up on me!" But they already had.

Karrigan smashed the phone angrily back into its holder, then had to smash it into the holder again because she had missed the first time. "Stupid 911, they never believe me," she muttered. (There might have been a good reason for this, since every other time Karrigan had called it HAD been a prank call, and now the 911 dispatchers had her voice on a tape labeled "Prank Caller, Ignore At All Costs.")

Her frustrated thoughts were interrupted by another screaming of "HUUUNIE BEEESKIIIIT!" and a crash indicating that the short, green-haired man had broken the glass.

There was a stunned silence for a moment as Karrigan and the Short Man eyed each other, then Short Man pulled a small Hello Kitty wallet out of his back pocket and held out five dollars. "Hunie beeskit, plees?" he asked politely.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any honey biscuits right now," Karrigan said cautiously. Short Man's eyes welled up with tears, and he walked away with his head hung low, occasionally looking back sadly at the phone booth with the stunned television executive inside.

Said executive shook her head vigorously to remind herself that she was, in fact, still in the real world. The shaking finally produced a rather large headache and Karrigan stopped, dizzy.

Then she remembered why she was here in the first place. She glanced down at the bedraggled ex-crane in her hand and read the address again. She looked up.

"Oh! There it is!" She had been standing in front of the correct address from the start. "How could I have missed it!"

Karrigan jogged to the door and looked around inside for the sniper. She cursed in disappointment at seeing no one, drawing furtive glances from an odd-looking group of people who had crowded into a corner booth and all seemed to be trying to hide behind various newspapers.

Then something white on a nearby table caught Karrigan's eye. It was a paper crane. She grabbed at it eagerly and began to unfold it.

Inside, in familiar handwriting, was what appeared to be... a grocery list. Karrigan squinted at it, confused. As she was trying to understand what the sniper might have meant by leaving her this message, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

The waitress was chewing gum noisily and dangling a telephone in an indifferent sort of way from one hand. "'S for you, I think," she said, and handed the phone to Karrigan.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Karrigan..." It was the sniper. Karrigan sat down hard in a chair and started to fan herself with the grocery list. "I seem to have just missed you. And I meant to leave a note with the date and time of the next place I'm willing to meet with you... but I seem to have traded that note with my grocery list. It's a risk that comes with folding all my notes into cranes."

"Yes! I have that here! It's a lovely list, Mister Sniper, sir."

"Yeah, if you could just read that to me so I don't forget anything when I go shopping this afternoon?"

Karrigan read him the list, cherishing every item. When she was finished, the sniper gave her an alternate date and address and told her to really not be late this time. Then he hung up.

"Ah..." Karrigan sighed happily, re-reading the grocery list. "Hey, he gets Charmin too! I think I'm in love."


End file.
